Jerome Brooke

Near the centre, near Saint Peters,
Stands the Crystal palace,
In the palace, near the silver fountain,
Sleeps our Queen, all in lace.
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Dark waves rise, then race at the shore,
Black nights of the soul.
At sea, pale clouds, and mist, hide memory,
Moments of joy, and sorrow.
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Dancer, spinning in silk, turn to me,
I do burn.
Lady in black, Maid of Fire, burn me,
Come, return.
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Prince of Mindanao, splendid in bronze,
Marching, so young, so pure.
Vassals bow before your horse, the warband,
Does salute you, bright in azure.
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Ladies of the court, with grace and charm,
All walk with our Ador.
Ladies of love, and courtesans of song,
All these and more.
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Planes of Mirage, clouds of mist, lie deep,
Freed by light.
Ages past, lost to all eyes, dwell below,
Waiting for life.
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Mount, ride my Prince, son of our Queen,
Lead us to Gold.
Pale is the horse, the dim white horse,
That I now do hold.
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High on the hill, round the lone prey,
Wolves sing, howls of cold.
Wolves, gray hunters, sing and run;
Hunters fleet, and bold.
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Wolves howl, chill warning,
Songs of red blood.
Hunters smile, men reach for spears,
Stone, one with wood.
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High, over the sea, stands our Lady,
With hair of gold.
On hills of pure silver, hard driven,
By gales, ever bold.
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Forward sailed the royal craft, ebony and gold,
Gleaming with jewels.
Sails of red great circles made, racing the clouds,
Before a gale of rage.
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Fire dances, circles of stone, leaping high,
Night flows, silently, outside.
Stones dance, in shadows, shadows of fear,
Fear carried, with the tide.
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In cold darkness, stood the tall tower,
Red, of glowing stone.
Among the shadows walked the Queen,
Our Lady Fair, alone.
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Brave queen of chariot, queen of sail,
See the milling horde.
Truth and love, spear and sword,
Weep for your Lord.
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Wolves howl, chill warning,
Song of blood.
Hunters smile, men reach for spears,
Stone, one with wood.
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Thunder, cruel master, sounds far away,
Ashes blow in the sky.
Fear walks the street, cries ring out,
Filling the empty square.
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Around the lone, tired man, hunters,
Wolves, a circle formed.
Wolves, white wolves, howled,
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Flames, dreams, candles, shadows,
All dance in sight.
Flames on a far, dim hill, or near,
Close, in the night.
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Stars turn, slaying and burning,
Eyes flash.
Dawn searches, and night flees,
Bronze blades slash.
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Free the captives, return them to Cebu,
Their oaths sworn.
Spare the son of mine enemy, their King,
Fallen and torn.
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